Let Me Hate You One Last Time
by Ricordi
Summary: If I were standing in front of you, I would say "I hate you" and then, the word would just dissolve away from my vocabulary. Sadly, I couldn't be in front of you. Never again. Oneshot. Perfect Pair.


Disclaimer!: I do not own Tezuka and Fuji in any way imaginable. It would be ludicrous if I did own them. And everyone would agree to that.

(A/N: So I was bored. And I was listening to a sad song. And then poof comes this oneshot to life in cyberspace. Warnings? well, it was written in Fuji's Point of View, and probably the abuse of the word 'want' will be the only warning notable throughout. And again, a little bit overboard in the characterization.)

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I want to thank you. For being there. Like always. I should thank Fate too. It brought us here. It made us meet and end up loving each other. I sound like a melodramatic person right from the start, ne?. It can't be helped. Thanks a lot for fulfilling that promise of a tennis match. It was the most exciting and thrilling final match of my life as a tennis player. It makes me wonder, is that left arm of yours being abused again? I won't believe your excuse that it's fine. Be honest. But I don't need to ask that from you. I want to thank you for your honesty. For your loyalty. And most of all, for taking care of me as much; if not greater, as I cared for you. You can thank me anytime. But I haven't thanked you enough.

I want to love you. All over again. When I woke up in the morning, I just wanted to relish the reality that we're together and it makes me want to kiss you over and over. That fleeting sensation in my heart when you tell me that you love me; it makes my soul come out and let you explore it. And I mean every part of it. As if it would make me the happiest man in the world if you did. And I know that you still love me.

I want to see you. I feel that all the girls who like you must be really jealous of me right now. I can see you twenty-four-seven. Even when you sleep. I can see every little movement you make. Those tiny twitches, the subtle smiles. I can see it all in your face. Even your tears. And that is something I would never want to see from you. Though I want to see you cry, of happiness, not of despair. I want to see all of you throughout life. Your accomplishments. Your success. I want to see you happy and content with life. The last part, I don't think I can do that, so as you said in the past. But nevertheless, I would be watching you. But you can't see me. Maybe sometime in your dreams we can see each other.

I want to touch you. When you held my hands, I felt warm. And I longed for that kind of warmth. I want to cuddle you and just well, have contact with you, in any way. But I can't and it would really look ridiculous to other people if you would encircle your arms as if hugging air. I don't mind. At least you took the guts to try and hug me, though you can't touch me, and so can't I.

I want to talk to you. About your career. Your improvement in tennis. I want to just sit down and have a worthwhile conversation with you. Over eel tea perhaps? Or when you read at the library on a fine day? I want to hear your thoughts on your favorite author's latest book. I want to hear all you have to say about your life. Don't worry, I'll try to remember every detail and event that you tell me. (But if you do that, then you'll be talking to air, right?) So that I won't have to ask you for a recap. Why should I ask? You can't hear me anyway. At least I think you can't. Maybe you can.

I want to hate you. Like the way I did when we were first years that you just had to be stubborn and overuse your already injured arm. Or maybe the way I behaved towards you when you were engaged for a short time and I never heard a word of it. And many more petty instances that made my blood boil. But to be frank, those were immature, childish acts of hatred. I never really hated you. I could never think of any reason for me to hate you authentically. Even this current abhorrence is also a small hatred. I knew that I can't blame you for choosing to remain on this earth instead of joining me in the realm of specters and the dead alike. I understood that you value life. I was amazed on how you survived the plane crash and a bit disappointed that it did not kill you as easily as it killed me. That was certainly a reminder that taking the window seat could be dangerous. I don't know why, but I was expecting you to cry at my wake. You didn't. You cried when the rescue crew found you and my dead body. I guess this will be the last time that I would 'hate' you. Somehow, being like this, hovering unseen in this world has its pros and cons, don't you think? Ne Tezuka, after this feeling of hate subsides, I want to do one last thing.

I want to walk with you; beside you. And most importantly, just simply _be_ with you.

-**staybyme**-

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I think I made it a little bit cliche, don't you think?


End file.
